Up Jumped The Devil
by maenhi
Summary: Leaving personal DVDs in not-personal DVD players is never a good idea. Dethklok, S/T. This is silly, be very afraid! And enjoy of course. Written for Hearts&Guts 2010.


**Title**: Up Jumped The Devil**  
Main character(s):** Dethklok, with a side order of S/T  
**Genre**: Humor  
**Rating**: R  
**Warnings**: Language and stupidity  
**Summary**: Leaving personal DVDs in not-personal DVD players is never a good idea.

**A/N**: This was written for Hearts & Guts 2010, a Metalocalypse gift exchange- and it was ridiculously funny to write. I hope you enjoy reading it!

**Up Jumped The Devil**

"Excuse me?"

"Skwisgaar. And Toki. On tape... Yeah."

Sometimes, Charles decided, facepalming just wasn't good enough. He silently counted to three, then looked at Nathan as earnestly as he could.

"You found a tape of Skwisgaar and Toki having sex. Am I saying that right?"

"_Found_, dood—heh! They left it in da livin' room DVD play'r." Pickles' eyebrows perked up in such a way that suggested he was both horrified and amused to no end. Then again, odds were he wasn't sober.

Charles looked from Pickles to Nathan to Pickles and then to the wall behind them. Something told him none of this was good.

"Well, seeing as they are so... open about this, how about you accept it? Don't speak about it?" _Especially don't speak about it. Ever again._

"Dood, wheaat? Our guitarists are bangin' each other, and we're s'pposed to naht pull their chains?" Pickles looked positively scandalized, before he broke into schoolboy giggles. "Heehee-hee. Pull their chains... hee."

No, this was definitely not good, by any stretch of the term.

"Uuuuhhhh." Nathan scratched his head. "I don't think I can... I mean, I feel like we have to talk about this." He threw Charles a wary look. "You know, band dynamics and... stuff."

"Well, Nathan, how about you start by asking them about the true nature of their relationship? It may _not_ be affecting the band, after all." _Yeah, sure._ "Oh, and I'd like to have that DVD right away, if you could arrange that."

Pickles, still chuckling, now waggled his eyebrows. "You wanna watch it?"

Charles cleared his throat. "As a matter of fact, I plan to destroy it before anything leaks to the press. Which, I assure you, would _definitely_ affect the band."

"Dood, no need t'get all touchy!"

"Yeah, Pickles, where'd you put it?"

"Where'd _I_ put it? I thought we agreed on—" The look on Nathan's face made him think the better of it. "Aaalright, 'm gettin' it. _Gahd_, y'all need t' calm down fer a second!"

As soon as Pickles had left the room, a somewhat embarrassed silence fell. Charles cleared his throat again.

"So, Nathan, as the band _leader_, I'm afraid it's up to you to confront Skwisgaar and Toki with this issue. Think you can, uh, do that?"

Nathan shrugged without lifting his gaze from the floor. The way he stood there, like a giant and helpless child, almost made Charles take pity on him—almost. Except for the fact that he was in the most brutal band on the planet and probably wouldn't have appreciated the sympathy.

"Yeah, I guess." Nathan looked up. "Think I'll go and get this over with now."

He was already at the door when Charles felt the urge to stop him.

"And Nathan—you may not want to be too hard on them. Look at it this way: It would certainly help if they weren't fighting the entire next tour, too."

Nathan threw Charles a look as though he'd lost his mind, then slammed the office door shut.

* * *

_"Oh hey, wowee pal, you scored five-hundred-seventy-seven in this round! How did you manage to do that? Now tell—oh wait, time out! Pity, huh? Player two, your turn! You can beat that jack-off in no time—"_

"So, you guys—Skwisgaar, Toki. You have a moment, right."

"Nah, don'ts!"

"Nos, we's totallies busies here."

"Ja, you comes back laters!"

"Ja, laters."

"Guys, this is impor—"

"Goodbyes!"

"Byes the goods."

"You's out."

"And gones."

"Sees you."

"Neversmores—"

"Okay, that's it—you're going to talk to me RIGHT NOW, or else I'm ripping out your guts and having them for fucking dinner!"

That hurt a little. Nathan concernedly touched his throat; he really shouldn't have to yell this much at home; that was reserved for the stage. Not his fault the idiots wouldn't listen.

Toki stared at him with wide eyes while Skwisgaar grumpily reached for the remote and muted the sounds of video game bleeping and gleeful Facebones cackling. "Wut de fucks," he murmured, obviously wanting to be heard, and then turned around himself.

Nathan hesitated just a moment too long, and took in the image: Skwisgaar and Toki, next to each other. Fucking _close_ to each other. On their living room couch. That, and all the stuff he'd seen them doing on that cursed DVD mere hours before—it was a little too much. He felt the blood rush to his face.

"Uuuhhhhm." _Fuck._ "Uhh. Yeah, that's. That's better."

Toki blinked. Skwisgaar raised an eyebrow. Nathan wanted to be anywhere else, but preferably far away.

"So what's dis importsdants you comes in and screams like de berserk?" Skwisgaar asked, not even attempting to conceal his annoyance.

"Yeah, I's just abouts to beats Skwisgaar's stupid high scores!" Toki added brightly.

Nathan prayed to die. When that didn't happen, he took a deep breath and groaned. "Guys. We found that, uh... _your_... DVD."

_There. Wasn't all that hard, now was it?_

"What dee-vee-dee?"

"You _know_ what DVD!" Nathan growled, his impatience getting the better of him.

When Toki didn't receive a satisfying reply, he looked at Skwisgaar for help. "What ams he talking abouts?"

"No ideas... Nat'ans, you t'ink you could bes a littles more pre-size?"

"The tape with you guys... umm. Doing. Stuff." He really couldn't remember signing up for this kind of rock talk with his band members. "This is so wrong" he muttered to himself. Just as he turned to leave, however, Toki piped up.

"Ooohh, _dats_ one! Skwisgaar, he means what yous calls our private sausage-festivals!"

"Oh, _dat_ one." Neither of them seemed particularly embarrassed; Skwisgaar even had the nerve to cast a very cocky glance in Nathan's direction.

"Okay guys, I have no idea what's going on. Just... don't fuck up the band, okay?" He certainly felt better having said that.

"Well," Skwisgaar drawled, getting more comfortable on the couch, "_I_ don'ts fucks up de bands, anyways. Is Toki's part."

"Hey! Whats dat's supposed to mean?"

"It means dat you's guitar-playingks is dildoes."

"Is not!"

"Ja, _is_. You comes to prakt-cise wit' de un-tunedsd guitars—how is dat workingks?"

"Is only because you tunes it down and stops in de middles—"

"Whatevers, Toki. I always bes way more gooders dan you, you lives with it."

"I _nots_ lives with it!"

Nathan found it impossible to tear himself away from the absurd scene. How could they be bickering like nothing had happened, when the image of their tangled, naked limbs would be burned onto his retinas for-approximately-ever?

He sighed, exasperated. "Guys. Are you... in a relationship, or something?"

Two pairs of piercing blue eyes glared at him, suddenly intent. _Now_ he'd upset them.

"Relations-hips?" Toki asked, with trademark Skwisgaar pronunciation. Skwisgaar said nothing.

"Yeah, that thing where you. You know. Regularly fuck each other." Nathan almost complimented himself on that charming definition. These were the times he missed Rebecca, he realized. Come to think of it... time to start dating again.

Skwisgaar made a face. "Dat is... a bit privates, don't you t'ink?"

"Uhh. It wasn't that private when we—hm. Found that DVD. You remember."

The smiles that lit up the Scandinavians' faces were positively wicked. Nathan found he could've lived the rest of his life quite happily without seeing his guitarists exchange that glance.

"And anyways," Skwisgaar continued dramatically, "wat is dis 'ships,' anyways? Pfft. Dat's for pussies."

"Heey!" Toki shoved him. "But we fucks regul-earlies!"

"Toki, dat—"

"Guys ..."

"—doesn't mean we's in de relations-hips. I t'ink we's agrees on dat."

"You doesn't sounds like dat when you sucks my cock!"

"Guys—too much information!"

"I talks a lot of craps when I's trying to gets you off—"

"Ja, but you _looks_ like you pretty lots means it!"

"—and I gets you off, and dat's whats it's alls about!"

Toki had apparently wanted to contradict, but then stopped himself in time and beamed. "Okays!"

"Okay... brutal." Nathan scratched his head. "That really just happened, right?"

"What you means? Eh, I gots stuffs to do." Skwisgaar got up from the couch and stretched like a lazy cat. "Toki, you wants to comes along?"

Toki frowned. "You stops making fun?"

Skwisgaar rolled his eyes. "Is my _job_, Toki." Then he grinned at him. "But if you's goingks to be such a dildoes abouts it, I tries and be nice." Whatever that meant.

It was good enough for Toki, though, for he got up and followed Skwisgaar out of the room. They had hardly reached the hallway before Toki's fingers were finding their way into Skwisgaar's belt loops—but Nathan might've been imagining that.

Only not. He sighed again before remembering something.

"Where the fuck is Pickles?" He needed someone to take this out on. And it was his fault they'd watched that DVD, anyway.

* * *

"There ya go. Ehh... hehe. Enjoy." Pickles twinkled in a way that was supposedly meant to be encouraging. "Ya can keep it. Cahpied it to my hard drive jest now."

"I beg your pardon?"

"Cahpied it. Yanno, made a double."

Charles collected all his possible patience. "Thank you for clarification, Pickles. I thought I told you that this had to be destroyed."

"Yeah dood, ya can destroy it all you like now! That's, ya know, fine wit' me."

"Which is pointless, as long as there is a _copy_ somewhere. Do you understand that?"

Pickles frowned. "Seriously, you do nuthin' but complain all day lang."

Charles turned to Nathan. "So, did you manage to talk to them?"

"Uh. Yeah, I did."

"How did it go?"

"They're regularly fucking. And not in a relationship. And... in Skwisgaar's room right now. I think."

"What the hell is wrahng with Toki, anyway? That guy's only makin' fun o' him all the time!"

Nathan shrugged. "Uuhhm. Don't think so, though. Pickles, why did you make me watch that video?"

Pickles chuckled heartily and patted his back. "'Cause it's fun, dood."

"So, will you tolerate the change of events? Without me having to worry about homicide or press apocalypse?" Charles pressed his right thumb and forefinger to the bridge of his nose. At this time of the day—two thirty, to be precise—he usually dealt with copyrights and radio fees; it didn't feel right to neglect his routine.

"Why naht?" Pickles shrugged. "Back in th' eighties, I saw a lotta dicks close-up, myself. 'S nothin' wrang with that."

Nathan's brow furrowed as though it would never un-furrow again. "Yeah. Yeah, I guess Pickles is right."

"Excellent." Charles sat back down behind his desk. "Now all you have to do is inform Murderface, and we can continue scheduling your upcoming tour."

"Wait a minute—are you sayin' we're actin' like noth'n heappened at all?" Pickles stared at him.

"Yes, Pickles. Actually, that's exactly what I'm saying we should do."

Pickles gaped indignantly. "Yer a robot! We have t' at least throw them a party! Y'know, a gettin'-together-party. Thing."

"Great idea. I'm leaving." Nathan turned and fled through Charles's office door for the second time that day.

* * *

When Toki had grown tired of fiddling with Skwisgaar's blanket, he rolled on his back and watched him play.

"Why you leaves the dee-vee-dee?" he asked.

Skwisgaar chuckled quietly. "Thinks it woulds be fun. Was fun, _nej_?"

"Yeah. No. Dey seems a bit confunsded abouts it."

Skwisgaar shrugged, caught up in mastering a particularly tricky chord. "Dey gettingks used to it."

Toki let that sink in, then smiled. "You's alls kinky, Skwisgaar."

The playing stopped. When he resumed, Skwisgaar was giving Toki one of his naughtier looks. "You likesd it, too."

"Likes what?"

"Sexes wit' de camera."

Toki snickered. "Ja, dids. Wouldsn't leave de recordings, t'ough."

"You knows," Skwisgaar drawled as he put his guitar aside, "we can always makes a new one..."

* * *

"What are we doing?"

"Waitin' fer Murderface t' come ta practise."

"Right. What the hell are you drinking?"

Pickles pulled on the straw, as though he needed to taste once more to remember. "...I have no idea."

"Uh, okay. Any good?"

"Dood, check it out, it glows in the dark!" Pickles pressed several buttons on his universal remote, until the living room was pitch black but for a vomit-colored blur at level with his glass.

"Yeah, that's... yeah. Can you turn the lights back on?"

_Slurp._ "Actually, I fancy watchin' my drink glow fer a lil' longer."

"Pickles, there's other people in the room."

"Dood, I know theeat. Know theeat already."

"Other people, like Skwisgaar and Toki."

_Sluuuurp._ "So what? We're bein' tolerant here, remember? Doin' what good band mates do."

Nathan groaned. "That... uhh. Doesn't mean I'm prepared for—"

Make-out sounds. Speaking of which.

"Uggh. Nope."

"Tolerance, Nathan. Ya can do it." _Slurp._ "Dear Gahd, this stuff is awesome!"

Somewhere along the corridors, a faint rumble grew not-so-faint. There was nothing to worry about, though, now that Charles was back at his regular tasks and Pickles' external hard drive was in his possession.

"Hey guysh, where'sh everyone? And why ish all I schee a floating piesche of throw-up?"

"Eh, Murderface! Dood, don't—"

_Click._

"—turn on the lights right now." _Slurp._

Behold breakdown.


End file.
